Middle Earth FA63 D&D Game: Fifth Adventure - War in Goblin Gate

The newly-arrived Dwarf is approached by a tall, solid-looking young man who holds out his hand in friendship. “Hail, Bitur, and well met! I am Thoroncir, a knight-errant of Gondor, at your service. We may yet drink that ale together, if all goes well.” He grins. “I think our friend Gwaelur was becoming a little lonesome for some other company of his kind, and perforce we always have a need for a Dwarven warrior, or better yet two, in the dangerous places to which we are wont to go. You are most welcome here!”

You would not call Thoroncir handsome, as such, but he has a friendly, open face, brown eyes and a warm smile, with brownish-black hair and beard, both worn short. He is armored in the distinctive silvery-gray chainmail, breastplate, greaves, gauntlets and helm of the Sea-Knights of Linhir. He also wears a clasp bearing what you know at once must be a leaf of the White Tree of Gondor. At his side hangs a longsword of ancient design, in a worn but apparently still serviceable scabbard; a small white cloth is tied around it, near his belt. His shield, lance and other accoutrements are borne by his light warhorse, which you soon learn is named Seafoam.

On looking over the new arrivals and seeing how they are accoutered and so on, I’ll make the following amendments to the night-watches:

1st: Gilraen, Bitur and Mulligan
2nd: Ghân, Elfstan and Gwaelur
3rd: Deor, Thoroncir and Hraedsig

Miron and myself as before.

“Thank you, Sir Knight for the welcome. It is a privilege to be allied with your party. I hope I’ll be able to keep up with all of you. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a battle of such import. After Erebor-Dale, I retired from adventuring somewhat, and started working as a craftsman of both armor and toys.”

Upon mentioning toys, he pulls out a small grasshopper figurine and placing it delicately on the ground, the grasshopper jumps around while Bitur continues.

“Anyway, occasionally I would be called away from my workbench on some important task for either the Dwarves of the mountain or the Men of Dale, but for the most part, I plied my craft. However, upon hearing from my father of the import of this mission, I couldn’t in good conscience stay behind safe in my mountain while brave men of all the free peoples of Middle Earth went to war.”

Then making sure his father’s out of earshot Bitur adds, almost as an aside, and only for those in the immediate party…

“…Besides, the old goat would have kicked my ass had I not volunteered anyway.”

At the sound of the name Gwaelur, Bitur’s face immediately takes on a look of recognition. Sizing up Gwaelur, he approaches him, as one would approach an old friend.

“So, it is you! I thought you looked familiar, but it’s been many years, and the memory isn’t always quick to respond these days. When I met you were still wet behind the beard, and now look at you. A battle hardened veteran and I daresay one more hardened than I. It will be great to fight with you again, this time not as your commander, but as your equal.”

Gwaelur strides forward, a fit looking Dwarf of about 135. He looks every bit as mean as he is, and at the moment his eyes do not betray an ounce of kindness.

“Aye, I was indeed getting a bit lonesome for the fellowship of other dwarves. I never thought I would see such an old dwarf join our ranks though.” He lets the silence hang in the air for a moment, then cocks his head to one side as if considering a new thought.

“I suppose though, we can make room for one of the bravest fighters I have ever known, regardless of his…advanced age.” With that Gwaelur breaks out into a large smile and a hearty laugh. He walk over to Bitur and clasps him warmly on the arm. “How are you, sir, I had heard you retired? Couldn’t let the good fight pass you by, eh?”

:smack: simulpost. Oh well. Let’s pretent my post came before Hoopy’s and everything will still make sense.

“The clues were all there!”, thinks Ghân.

Pausing only to welcome Bitur “I’m Ghân the Druid and any friend of Gwaelur’s is a friend of mine - would you like a Goodberry?”, Ghân politely asks Falcon Master how to meet an Eagle.

Bitur accepts the Goodberry with thanks.

(Assuming these operate similar to the spell from 3/3.5, he’s no doubt had one of these before in his adventures.)

“I think I’ll save it for my watch tonight. Midnight snack and all. It’ll complement these walnuts.”

Holding up a bag of walnuts he took from his pack, Bitur offers a walnut to anyone who wants one.

Falcon Master to Ghân, “Ah friend Wose, give me a moment, I had the same thought and I think I got their attention. I do believe that is Gwaihir the Windlord himself leading the Great Eagles. You are a student of Radagast are you not? It has been long since the Drúedain and the Dúnedain worked closely together. I hope this is but the beginning of such a renewed alliance.”

insert not so small talk with Falcon Master here

Eventually the largest of the Eagles descends. He looks like he could carry off a man the size of Ghân for a quick snack but of course he never would. “Greetings Master of Falcons and Ghân-buri-Ghan of the Woods near and far. Friend to Radagast and by said already considered a friend by us. The Crebain will not darken the skies near here for quite a time. They should know better than to fly in such force so close to our main eyries.”

[quote=“What_Exit, post:48, topic:475898”]

Falcon Master to Ghân, “Ah friend Wose, give me a moment, I had the same thought and I think I got their attention. I do believe that is Gwaihir the Windlord himself leading the Great Eagles. You are a student of Radagast are you not? It has been long since the Drúedain and the Dúnedain worked closely together. I hope this is but the beginning of such a renewed alliance.”

Ghân bows and thanks Falcon Master. He explains that few Woses will leave their Forest but that they all still remember being gifted the land.
Personally he is in awe of travelling with such noble heroes, whose deeds are both written and immortalised in song.

Ghân shows respect to the mighty bird and timidly offers a Goodberry. (He’s not the best with speech, but finds this spell a useful substitute!)
Ghân asks if there is time to talk with an Eagle, or (shyly) even to ride with one.

Thoroncir* greets Falcon Master politely, but then is awestruck to be in the presence of the greatest of Eagles. He simply bows, tries not to stare at the massive raptor, and listens while Ghan talks to the Windlord.

*whose own name means “Eagle-ship” in Sindarin.

Given that it could make a snack of Ghan, I guess I would be no more than a brief morsel. I feel like a fieldmouse near a hawk. :eek:

Bitur, we will be glad of your prowess and skills when we venture to the Grave Door. I am sure that you and Gwaelur will enjoy it.

No Freyja, you can’t eat the grasshopper.

So when do we move off then, do we get a chance to look the Gate over during the Day?

Bows as low before Gwaihir as any here present have ever seen him do before, King Eomer not excepted

Bird of grace, wisdom and power!
Mighty of pinion, talon and beak,
Who alone of all created things
meets the Sun’s gaze unwinking;
Servant of Manwe and Him alone,
knowing no other master,
but friend to weak and helpless,
thrice friend to the Grey Pilgrim,
saviour of the Ringbearer;
scourge of the wicked, heeding not danger,
whose kind of old dreaded not the Dragons,
and who of late recked naught of Nazgul:
Happy the hour of this meeting!

Gwaihir to Ghân, “I am not accustomed to giving rides even to so little a man. But I have some time for talk. I also bring word to both you and Bjorn. I am to remind you both that before this year is out, you must return to Radagast for your training as a shape-shifter. Indeed, I might be there myself to help the first two Druids as Radagast calls your folk now. Of course Bjorn has a head start over you in learning to shape change. Please pass the word on to him.” He pauses a bit and you hear a thunderous rumble from the Great Eagle. “Hmmm, Crebain is a bit too greasy; that Goodberry is probably just the thing I need. He delicately takes it from your proffered hand.”

Looking over the others that followed Ghân over to Falcon Master he nods to Thoroncir and Gil-Gandel.

Bird of grace, wisdom and power!
Mighty of pinion, talon and beak,
Who alone of all created things
meets the Sun’s gaze unwinking;
Servant of Manwe and Him alone,
knowing no other master,
but friend to weak and helpless,
thrice friend to the Grey Pilgrim,
saviour of the Ringbearer;
scourge of the wicked, heeding not danger,
whose kind of old dreaded not the Dragons,
and who of late recked naught of Nazgul:
Happy the hour of this meeting!

“And greeting to you joyful Elf. Good luck today and tomorrow for what you plan to do. I believe the Goblins know something bad is to happen, make sure you help to make it worse than they ever expected. It is time for these mountains to be free.

Well Master of Falcons, we shall be looking for strays when this is done but there are not enough of us to do all the work. Will you have fast ranging troops outside to hunt those that try to flee?”

Falcon Master replies, “The elves will have this covered and have both small groups of swift runners and four fierce companies of swift horse archers to handle strays and break outs.”

Over by Mulligan and the Dwarves; Freyja was indeed already stalking the toy, which amazingly keeps going. It hops, walks and jumps at haphazard moments in a seemingly random pattern until it finally hops back to where it started. This goes on for a full 10 minutes. The Hobbits both realize it must be one of the “Toys of Dale”; the most valued and precious toys of dreams for little Hobbit lasses and lads. They where first brought in by Bilbo and giving out during his most famous party, “The Great Party”.

Over the years both Thain Peregrin and Meriadoc had brought some few more in from Dale. But they are very rare and many of the originals have broken or been lost. Mulligan actually had one as a child, a marching drummer that Uncle Pippin had given her. Mulligan of course as is traditional passed it along to a younger child, one of Pippin’s granddaughters in fact.
Heading for the Door will happen soon now that the final plans are being drawn up We just await the final troops.

“One last thing, Falcon Master, I wonder if you would know the origin of these sling bullets which are most efficient against Wargs and wolves.”

Mulligan shows him one of the silver bullets gifted her by Uncle Pippin.

(Oh good the hint was caught)

Falcon Master exclaims, “These are the work of one Dernja of the Belegost Dwarves of the Blue Mountains; the Broadbeams. He made them and some matching bolts several centuries ago, around the time the Winter Wolves came marauding throughout Eriador. If you would seek more, seek among their people. Some are here in fact.”

I had a 2am moment :wink:

Excellent, for I only have a few of them left and they have proved most useful. I will have to find the Dwarves to ask and hope that the secrets of making them have not been lost.

Do you know where are they currently and do you think I will have time to talk to them before we must move out?

You should have time and the wagons trimmed in Blue and Gold will be theirs. I think they marched out 100 strong or more.

Mulligan tracks them down fairly quick and begins asking around. They direct you a merchant of missiles and crossbows. His name is **Renmar **and he regrets he has none though he has some other choice stones and bullets. He believes that some of your bullets might be available back home.

(You will want to make a note of his name or even this post)

Post noted :cool:

Mulligan thanks Renmar for his time and knowledge. What else does he have and does he happen to have any that might be proof against the undead at all?

No harm in asking.

Thoroncir works up the nerve to talk to the Windlord. He explains the derivation of his own name and says, “Thank you, my lord, for your invaluable service to the Free Peoples, during the War of the Ring and today. You cannot help but lift the spirits of all who see you and your folk aloft, and you remind us that the eyes of the Valar are yet upon us all. May you have fair skies and helpful winds wherever your mighty wings may take you!”

Nice poem, Malacandra. Well done.

Hraedsig is awed by the presence of Gwaihir and the eagles, too awed to approach. He watches from afar with great interest, though. He wonders if this group he has joined is often graced with such illustrious company, and silently thanks Eonwe for his guidance to this place.